Lord Indoril Nerevar: An Incarnate is Reborn
by WrEn CoRaZoN
Summary: In the waning years of the Third Era of Tamriel, a prisoner born on a certain day to uncertain parents, is sent under guard. With no explanation he is shipped to the lands of Vvardenfell, Morrowind District, ignorant of the role he is soon to play...
1. Chapter 1

***T**he faint whisperings became, suddenly, a source of irritation as he became conscious of them. They stirred agitatedly, rustled through his mind, completely unintelligible and confusing, echoing here, alighting over there and then fading into nothing, only to repeat the cycle once more. As soon as he began to pay true attention, warily and with a little annoyance, the whisperings ceased quite suddenly, and only silence remained.

The elf-man then opened his eyes, blinking them blearily as he did so. He could feel tiny, cold beads of sweat upon his furrowed brow, as he slowly sat up. His tawny netted hammock creaked and rocked slightly, to and fro, from his movements as he gazed about, his heart thumping jerkily beneath his chest.

The dank and dim prison hold was only slightly lit, making it, perhaps, only a mere shade lighter than was usual. The boxy iron and glass paned lantern that lit the hold, sat tall upon an empty wooden barrel at the foot of his hammock. Two, spare stubs of waxy yellow candles laid beside the lantern upon the barrel, where they would wait to be used, sparingly, later on into the day.

The elf-man rubbed his tired eyes with two fingers, holding back a groan from the dull aching in his muscles. As he pressed his fingers against his eyes, he felt the cold sweat upon his bare chest as well, lining down the whole length of his stomach. The elf-man lowered his hand, blinking his eyes into focus with a slight frown wrinkling his face.

"Looks as though you had the same sleep as you did yesterday, Seija-Dreamer," said a familiar, raggedly deep voice.

The elf-man, Seija was his given name, slowly turned his head and looked over his right shoulder. Directly across from him was his companion Jiub, who sat cross-legged upon his own netted hammock hanging from the opposite wall. The elf-man's face pinched into a questioning frown, "Yes," he grumbled, his own deep voice broken from only just awakening. "I feel as though I have been up all the night, listening to someone."

Jiub's brows knitted together ponderously and he folded his arms over his chest. "Did you understand anything?" he asked.

Seija shook his head, "No. It was only the... the strange whispers." The elf-man took a short breath, then sighed through his nose, willing away his grogginess coolly. He could feel his heart's beat was now gradually slowing and calming beneath his chest, but the aches straining the muscles of his whole body remained, as though he had exerted himself all through the night.

Jiub nodded his shaven head lightly. "You must have these dreams interpreted when we reach Morrowind, Seija, or maybe a good Temple priest could heal you of them."

Seija frowned and shook his head. "No, I would rather not tell anyone else of these dreams, Jiub."

Jiub pursed his lips at the elf-man, "I suppose that is a good idea." Jiub suddenly chuckled softly; the laughs came out of him as a jagged rumbling. "The pious priests might think you have soul sickness or some such stupid thing."

The elf-man nodded, "Yes," he said simply, thinking that was an all-too-possible likelihood. He then carefully swung his legs to hang over the netting of his hammock, and then slowly slid down to the ship flooring. Seija pursed his lips, refusing to groan or even grimace at the stiffness of his hurting body. He strode across the rough, wooden floor towards an opened barrel, which contained a large amount of fresh water that had not been drawn from the salty waters of the Inner Sea.

As he reached the barrel, which was used by prisoners primarily for drinking and washing, he picked up a wooden bucket from off the floor and dipped it into the barrel. As he mildly watched the water swirl and churn as it filled the submerged bucket, Jiub said: "What is the first thing you'll do when we get to Morrowind, Seija-Dreamer?"

Seija lifted a brow thoughtfully, and then hoisted out the filled water-bucket. "I will have a decent bath somewhere."

Jiub chuckled heartily at that, "That is a fine idea!" he said and his chuckle ringed out again.

Seija smiled lightly and after placing the bucket down upon the ship floor, he stiffly sat down beside it and began to wash his body. "What will you do, Jiub?" he asked, smoothing the cooled water over his brow and face.

Jiub's scarred face pulled into a light, ponderous look. After a short moment, he said: "I think I'll go to a tavern or an inn, if I have any coins on me, and I'll buy a good, honest meal." Jiub grinned widely at the thought and nodded his head to himself. "And I'll wash it all down with a stout tankard of beer."

Seija nodded, smiling openly, as water dripped into his lips and down his jaw and chin. He began to carefully smear handfuls of the chilly water over his chest and shoulders, gooseflesh swiftly rising upon his skin as he did so. "After my bath," he mumbled, "I would join you in that."

Jiub laughed heartily, then pointed a slender finger in Seija's direction. "That's what we'll do then, Seija-Dreamer!" he said, "You and I will get stinking, blessedly drunk together when we reach Morrowind!" he laughed again, his face looking utterly light-hearted with the thought of such wondrous normality.

Seija grinned at his dear companion and nodded. He let out a small, quiet chuckle, "Gods help the first tavern we find."

Jiub laughed along with Seija, as the elf-man lifted up the water-bucket with two hands and began to pour water out, onto his head.

***S**eija frowned and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, as a dull headache pulsed behind them. After a moment, he lowered his hand and shook his head, willing himself to concentrate on his supper instead. It was a humble meal; the clay bowl within his hand was filled with a hefty lump of warm saltrice porridge. A thick slice of brown wickwheat bread was also placed within the bowl, plain and unbuttered. The elf-man took up his wooden spoon, and carefully scooped up a bit of the porridge, though he did not feel hungry at all.

"The crew sees a storm heading towards us. I was told it would hit the ship by tonight," Jiub said over a dry mouthful of bread.

Seija nodded, chewing the porridge in his mouth slowly and focusing upon the taste and texture of it, in an attempt to forget the pain drumming in his head. "I overheard," he said, "when the guard told you. We will have to put out the lantern when it finds us."

Jiub nodded as he now began to dip his bread in his porridge. "That is, _if_ it finds us." He lifted his soppy bread to his mouth and bit into it. "You won't get seasick will you, Seija-Dreamer?" he asked, mouth full.

Seija swallowed, "No," he said simply, spooning out more porridge. "Will you?"

Jiub laughed, showing the food in his mouth for an instant, and shook his head. He swallowed and stuck his spoon back into his bowl, "No," he said, "I do not remember ever being seasick in my life." He lifted his spoon to his mouth.

Seija nodded once, and then stopped, as a rushing throb of pain swelled in his head. He knitted his brows against it, instinctually thinking that the headache was becoming worse every moment. He tossed the thought away though, and placed a mouthful of porridge in his mouth. "Nor can I." he said quietly.

Jiub nodded with his cheeks full. "My father was a fisherman you know, Seija," he said, his voice muffled by food. "I grew up playing on the deck of his little skiff." He swallowed and then smiled widely at the remembrance.

Seija gave a weak smile to his companion as he chewed, then swallowed. "Where did you live then, Jiub?" he asked.

Jiub grinned at the question, "We had a small home near Anvil." He took up his bread and bit into it hungrily, then scooped up a bit of porridge and quickly bit into that as well. "I loved it there as a boy," he mouthed and nodded to himself as he chewed.

Seija gazed down at his bowl full of saltrice porridge, and pushed it around now with his spoon. The elf-man sighed quietly as the blood in his head surged painfully and the ache behind his eyes thrummed. Seija squinted slightly, as the glare of the lantern light seemed to blare in his eyes, and held up his clay bowl, "Will you eat the rest of this, Jiub?" he mumbled.

Jiub lifted a brow at Seija, questioningly. "You're full already? You only had a few bites..."

Seija shrugged lightly, then slid down from his hammock, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud. He strode across the rough planks to stand below Jiub's hammock. When Jiub leaned over and held out his own clay bowl with two hands, Seija scraped his portion of porridge into Jiub's bowl, and stuck in his slice of wickwheat bread as well. After that he turned and left the empty bowl to rest on the floor near the barrel which the lantern stood on.

"Are you feeling well, Seija?" Jiub asked, concern noting his coarse voice, as he watched the elf-man stride back to his hammock and quickly hop up into it.

Seija nodded absently and shut his eyes tight to block out the light as he laid down on his back within his hammock. Chill sweat began to gleam upon his forehead and chest now. "I am fine;" he said quietly, "I only need to rest a little." But the pain of his head grew even more, making Seija want to lurch out of bed to vomit out the small amount of food in his stomach. The elf-man, though, merely swallowed and rolled over onto his side. He grumpily threw his coarse, grey blanket over his body and covered his face as well, to further shut out the lantern light. With the beating pain pulsing in his head, there then came a surging, ringing blackness. As the deep blackness blotted out everything and the ringing became unnaturally shrill, Seija was abruptly struck asleep.

***"**_**M**__ortal, I __apologize for manipulating your body in such a manner_," said a rich, deep voice of a grand lady. "_The time is come that I shall give you council, now._"

The elf-man, Seija, glanced about wildly, suspiciously searching for the source of the voice, as a hot gust of wind streamed through his hair. Seija lifted his hand up to shield his eyes from the gritty, ash-ridden wind as he turned round, facing into it head-on. The voice's bearer was nowhere to be seen behind him, nor as he turned about in a small circle, did he behold anything or any being hiding behind the large black boulders and tall rocky spires jutting out from the warm, steaming ground.

The elf-man turned his back to the wind, lowering his hand as he did so, and gazed up at the smoky red sky. "Who speaks?" he shouted, his eyes wandering jerkily over the smoggy, scarlet redness above.

"_Search your heart, dear mortal,_" said the beautiful woman-voice, in a slightly soothing tone, "_For the ancient heart beating beneath your breast well remembers what your mind has forgotten._"

The elf-man frowned at the voice's cryptic reply, his eyes still flicking here and there upon the desolate sky, searching vainly. His heart thudded nervously, though he utterly ignored it for foolery impatiently. The wind howled as it forcefully ushered past, scattering the ash upon the ground and making the elf-man squint slightly as it kicked up reddish skirls of dust. After a long, long quiet moment of Seija waiting for the voice to speak once more, he finally lowered his eyes defeatedly. He had thought the voice would digress, and perhaps speak again if he remained silent for long enough. But now, he realized that the powerful voice would do no such thing until he did as it bid and: '_Search his heart..._'

Seija frowned and, after a deep sigh, fixedly shut his eyes. The elf-man collected himself, quietly trying to empty his mind of thoughts, though he wondered vaguely how one went about searching his heart. For a time he simply breathed and felt, only the tepid wind coursing against his tall naked body. He felt the grainy bits of volcanic ash, carried by the wind, patter against his naked flesh. All the while, his long hair flicked about his face and shoulders as it played in the strong, smoke and ash-choked wind.

Soon, though, his mind gradually began to stray ever farther. It slowly drew away from things corporeal. His mind's eye seemed to float in nothingness, and then began to eddy onwards, through the slippery, black murk of time within himself, sifting through flickering memories of an era, of a life gone, and long, long forgotten. Seija's eyes finally snapped open widely as his old heart snatched at a single past memory. He was startled as he thought that the voice had spoken truthfully, his heart had indeed remembered something very old and cherished.

Seija gazed up at the blood-red sky, his brows pinched into a look of remorse. The elf-man then bent down to one knee and lowered his head deeply, chiding himself silently for acting so foolishly before. "Forgive me, Mother of the Rose, Great Queen of the Night Sky!' he exclaimed, his deep voice sounding tremulously humbled.

"_There is no transgression to forgive of you, yet. Rise, faithful servant,_" said the deep, flutish and impressive voice of the goddess Azura herself.

Seija rose up slowly and kept his head bowed respectfully. The elf-man waited quietly, before speaking. The wind pitched past him strongly, making him sway in its grasp for a moment. After the wind subsided down to a dull breeze, Azura's voice echoed out across the red land once more.

"_Over the years you slumbered dormant, apart from the mundane plane of Nirn, many of the False have fallen._" Said the Deadric Prince, "_Yet where they have fallen, you yourself shall rise once more. You have been chosen._"

Seija, head still inclined, lifted a brow in confusion at the words the goddess spoke. Then her voice drew out again, overpowering his chain of thought. "_The web of your fate is swiftly spun, my servant,_" said Azura, "_Upon your arrival to the lands of the Changed Ones, each strand of your future shall become apparent. You must follow the set path as it is given._"

The goddess' voice suddenly softened, her deep, rich inflection becoming mild and lightened as she said: "_Fear not, for I am watchful. I will always be with you._"

As her voice echoed out, the red land was gracefully wiped away in the blink of an eye. Seija's mouth hung open as he found himself suddenly standing upon a shoreline in the dark of night, while the crisp waves of a vast sea lapped playfully around his ankles. The pale sand beneath the surging, clear waters was soft, and his feet gently sank into it.

The sky before him, above the sea, was a deep indigo-blue, dappled plentifully with pale stars that softly winked. Two large moons hung luminously, heavy and full along with the stars, casting down pearly light that danced upon the seawaters. Seija closed his mouth, frowning wonderingly as Azura's words echoed in his head, and turned round and walked out of the shallow seawater. As he trudged up upon the dry, silvery beach-sand, thunder rolled deeply overhead.

Seija stopped upon the moon-bright sands and gazed upwards at the rumbling, dark sky. The elf-man sniffed the air tentatively, smelling a coolness, a certain tell-tale moisture that was not borne of the sea near him. "Rain," he whispered to himself and waited for a moment, quietly gazing at the sky as thunder rumbled across it once again.

Suddenly, from no cloud whatsoever, rain began to fall, pattering softly. Seija blinked at the sky as the silver rain fell, spotting cool water on his face and shoulders. The elf-man lowered his gaze and began to walk further up the sands. As he did, the rain began to steadily increase, until it poured down upon the beach in laden, grey sheets.

He had only walked perhaps four steps, and the din of loud rainfall now filled his ears, clamouring within the air with a tuneful roar. The elf-man's hair was quickly drenched, hanging in long wet slops upon his shoulders, as rivulets of clear, cold rain ran down the length of his muscled, naked body.

Seija squinted through the rain, seeing that the beach led to no-place. His way was utterly barred, all round, by jagged black sea-stone. The elf-man licked his rain-wet lips and sat down upon the pale, wet sand. He rested his elbows upon his knees and hung his head slightly as the water dripped from his hair and nose. Seija closed his eyes, feeling a sudden grogginess and quickly shivered himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**S**eija had been sleeping, unknowingly, but blissfully deep and peaceful. His languidly tired and faintly bewildered slumbering soul was thickly enveloped, gently floating inside a wondrously calmed, silent black unconsciousness. Of which, the old mer despairingly, had not seemed to have experienced since setting fateful footsteps upon the foreboding Imperial Prison Ship. However, of course, Seija only realized how truly well he had been sleeping, _after_ being snappishly awoken with an almost instantly palpable sense of urgency.

Seija had blearily, but swiftly as he could manage, emerged into waking after having the sense that his body was being shaken and stirred about, and not by the familiar rock and sway of his coarse, netted hammock and certainly not by the deep lunging and leaning bounds of the huge ship, but by strong hands that gripped down to the very muscle and bone of his right shoulder.

The sleepy mer frowned deeply, breathing and blowing through his nose heavily and blinked as he began to bestir himself, though his eyesight was still rather misty and uncertain from his healthful sleep. Seija slowly turned his heavy head and looked to his right, only to see his cherished ship-companion, Jiub, staring up at him with a confusing look of slight excitement upon his scarred and ragged face.

Seija eased his body slightly up, leaning mostly upon his elbows. The movement made his hammock swing side-to-side a little; however, Jiub quickly took hold of the tawny hammock netting and stilled it hurriedly. "Seija-Dreamer," Jiub whispered anxiously, his already tattered inflection sounding ever the more hoarse and jagged, "You slept through last night's storm, not even _it_ could wake you!" he rasped loudly with a quick smile. Then Jiub's face pulled into a look of seriousness and he laid hold of Seija's shoulder once more, in a tight vice-like, cold-fingered grip. "But you have to wake now!" he announced.

Seija frowned concernedly down at his companion, though he vaguely felt somewhat irritated and a twinge perturbed by his usually sedate ship-companion's sudden turn of emotion, so early after rising. "What is the matter, Jiub?" the mer asked, his own deep voice cracking and jarring from the night's comfortable idleness.

Jiub then shook his head to and fro with a restrained laugh and motioned with flapping hands, for Seija to come join him down upon the ship-planking. "Stand up, Seija," he said, "You must clothe yourself and make ready! I have overheard the guards speaking this morning!" he added as he strode away, "Quickly, my friend, quickly!"

Seija, softly scowling in confusion, carefully raised himself up and then deftly swung his legs out and over the confines of his hammock. But, before the mer could even slip down onto the floor of the ship's hold, Jiub, who had taken to scrabbling off in the darkness near the crate which held aloft the iron and glass paned lantern, suddenly stood up and quickly threw something fluttering and waving in Seija's direction.

Seija caught the thing in his hands instinctually and lifted it up into the darkness before him to look at it. After recognising the thin piece of tattered, holed cloth as his only given shirt, Seija slowly pulled it on and cinched the faded red sash close against his hips, but neglected to tie the mismatched strings at the collar. "Jiub," the mer said calmly, "tell me what is happening. What did you hear from the guards?" With that, Seija decidedly slipped down from off his hammock and landed upon the ship flooring with a dull, wooden thud.

Seija all at once could hear off to his left, by the sound of a metallic squealing noise, that Jiub was opening the small hinged door of the iron lantern. There then came the soft, gritted noise of the striking of a tinderstick. A comely little bloom of muted, flickering golden light suddenly lit up the dank darkness of the ship's hold just a little and then grew again into a slightly magnified amount of shining light. Jiub, who stood stooped over the lantern then shut the light's door and turned to Seija, still holding the smoking, withered tinderstick between his fingers. Jiub grinned warmly over at Seija though his face and form were somewhat shadowed from the light resounding behind him.

"I have heard, Seija-Dreamer," Jiub intoned aloud now, in his guttural voice, "that we have finally reached the shores of Morrowind!" Jiub smiled once again and then chuckled as he purposefully allowed a span of silence to ensue, so that his abrupt and awaited words would sink into Seija's morning-muddled mind at a gradual rate.

Seija frowned, dully staring open-mouthed and expectant as his old heart seemed to lurch inside of him and skip a beat beneath his chest, simply at Jiub's clear and surprising news. Seija blinked his sleep-heavy eyes once or twice and slowly shut his parted mouth as he collected himself. "We were not supposed to reach Morrowind for another day or more," Seija said in an uncaring voice, though the very slight wavering in his voice clearly betrayed his composure, just as his very few actions had beforehand. Really, the old mer did not know what, precisely, he was feeling and could not describe it to even himself, now that he was faced with confronting the true prospect of freedom within the civilized world soon to be tasted, felt, _had_ once again.

Jiub laughed loudly and strode over to his companion all-too knowingly. He swiftly closed the small gap between them as he absently threw the skeleton of the tinderstick into a bucket upon the floor nearby. Jiub's hearty glee-filled chuckles echoed throughout the ship's long prison hold and Jiub laid both hands upon Seija's sturdy shoulders and gave them a friendly, vigorous shaking. "Ha! Seija-Dreamer," he chortled, "I don't believe I have ever seen such an emotional display from you in all this long voyage!" He laughed again once more, slapping Seija's arm, and then turned away to walk down to the big water barrel nearby.

"It was the storm, Seija!" Jiub shouted as he bent down and then filled a badly chipped, red clay cup with water, which normally rolled about in an old bucket near the water barrel. After filling up the cup, he also dipped into the barrel an old, rarely used metal ladle which always hung inert upon the brim of the water barrel. "The storm, I heard one guard say," Jiub continued loudly now, "seemed to push us on a path, right into the currents of Morrowind! What luck, eh Seija?" Jiub shook his head with a smile as he strode back over to Seija, handing him the wet chipped cup, filled to its rounded rim with cool water.

Seija took hold of the cup given him and curiously knitted his brows together in thought. _What luck, indeed,_ he mused, though he very well suspected that the great Queen of Dawn and Dusk certainly must have had something to do with such fortuitous and strangely fortunate events. Seija dismissed those thoughts for the time being, as Jiub was now lifting the metal water-ladle, filled with water, up high.

"We should make a toast together, Seija!" he cried, his tattered voice grating happily, "Ah…to new beginnings!" he decided with a grin and then continued on, "Thank the blessed Nine of Cryodiil that the ship's hands were too busy fighting rain, wind and the sea to remember to call on us sinners for help, and we thank the great Tribunal for receiving us to their free, new lands!" Jiub looked to his companion for a sign of expected acquiescence.

Seija smiled softly as he lifted his dangerously full cup up a little higher in accord. "May they have something stronger than water for us to drink there…" he mumbled and then carefully shifted his cup to his lips to sip the cool, now christened, water.

Jiub chuckled happily at that and nudged his ladle in a gesture of agreement towards Seija. "Here, here!" he bellowed in a tight growl, between snippets of chuckling and slurping of the water from his small ladle.

But the tickling air of celebration was quickly lost, not more than a mere heartbeat afterwards, when there came the all-too familiar noises of imminent approach, down by the bedarkened hold hatch-door. The two companions both listened intently as they sipped at the precious sentiments infused, like true liquor, within their toast-water. There were the scraping resonances of a large key being inserted into the metal lock upon the prison door. Then the tuneful clinking and jangling of heavy chain being lifted and finally, the echoes of padlocks being slowly slid out of place. Jiub and Seija watched the door, wondering just whom it was coming to release them from the dank prisoner hold, once and for all. The small square hatch door was quickly lifted open with a protestant screech, letting bright, garish light shine down from above into the dim hold. Then a deep, well-known voice bellowed out commandingly from the opening of the hatch door.

"Ho, down there!" the guard's voice boomed, "You lot of scum arrange yourselves in proper fashion and now!"

Seija pursed his lips and stared in anger at the empty hatch, resenting who had been sent to retrieve himself and Jiub. Seija bent down, in no cowed hurry to place his half-emptied cup to stand upon the floor. Jiub, in turn, swiftly turned to throw his ladle off into the water barrel. After it winged through the air in clumsy circles, it found its new home as it sploshed then sunk into the barrel. Seija smiled a hidden smile as Jiub followed behind him, while they walked down the rough wooden planks to stand at the very back of the hold. Almost in unison, they spread their legs apart and held up their hands, palms out and fingers slightly spread.

The guard, who had spoken, peeked his large Imperial head down into the opening of the hatch to see if his two charges had done exactly as he ordered. After evidently being satisfied, and somewhat disappointed, that they were in a proper state and fashion to approach safely, the block-headed guard then barked an order, which sent down two armed escorts. His grim-faced bodyguard's were Imperials as well, and they seemed impassive and stern in comparison to the well-known lead guard, who was wretchedly animated, cruel and repellent, even to a prisoner's judgement.

The two sturdy, thick-bodied escorts both wore the purple legion skirts, as well as full iron armor. They were each kitted with clean shortswords, belted at their hips and with deadly, shining steel crossbows, which were loaded and ready to shoot. The two Imperial bodyguard's then ineptly began to descend down the wooden hatch ladder one after the other, with quite a racket emanating from their jostling armor. When they were on sturdy ground, they turned round to face the prisoners. They both lifted their crossbows and aimed directly at the very heads of their charges only a short shot away, down the planking.

The lead guard, whose odious name was simply Brakhus to the prisoners, then casually stepped down the hatch ladder and stood comfortably between his two armed and ready escorts. Brakhus had thick, curly brown hair and dark, liquid brown eyes beneath severe, ever-knitted brows. His face was clear and healthy, even a little handsome, though he did have quite a large forehead. Upon his chin he had a clean shaven dark goatee, which accentuated a wide, fine-lipped mouth. His build was like his compatriots, thick, short and tough, but unlike his compatriots, he seemed to have no use for heavy, clunky armor, for he simply wore a studded leather cuirass cinched at the waist, leather boots and one single iron gauntlet upon his right arm and hand. Just looking upon the man in happen-stance, you would not know he was evil.

The imperial, Brakhus, raised his gauntleted hand and pointed his finger directly at Seija. Seija frowned at the gesture from the man he found foul. Brakhus shouted, still pointing a thick leathered finger at Seija, "This is where you get off! Come over to me and, mind, no sudden movements or you'll be pinned down to the floor!" Brakhus took a quick breath, "You know the exercise, old man, now move!"

Seija almost instantaneously forgot his silent simmering anger for Brakhus, as he registered the man's shouted words and gestures. The mer found, all at once, that his heart was beginning to buck beneath the taught muscles of his wide chest, no longer with anger, but a knowing dread. The old mer turned and looked at his friend, Jiub, who seemed to wear the same feelings Seija had, upon his own scarred face.

"What of my companion?" Seija asked, his deep quiet voice sounding a sheer opposite of Brakhus' within the prisoner hold.

Brakhus frowned darkly and his face grew red with an indignation that had long been ready to be loosed. "Balls to your, _companion_!" he shouted scornfully, "I have my orders, jack-ass, and they state that you alone get off here!" Brakhus again raised his thick forefinger and jabbed it into the air in Seija's direction, "You have _your_ orders as well, pig-Dunmer, now move before I start using my magicka!"

Seija looked at Jiub and their eyes locked in muted understanding. They both did not even hear Brakhus taunt in the background: "If I wasn't under orders, by the Nine, I'd leave you here to rot with your scum _companion_, if you love his company so much, you filthy guar-buggers!"

Seija set his jaw angrily, ignoring Brakhus, and he put his hand upon Jiub's shoulder and squeezed it tightly with his fingers. Jiub frowned as well at the sudden turn of events, his one good, intelligent red eye glistening with disbelief and dejectedness. Jiub lifted his hand and, in turn, grasped Seija's opposite shoulder with it.

Seija's brows pulled slightly as he spoke quietly. "I have only known you a week, dear Jiub," he said, "but in that time you have already become my dearest of friends…" Seija swallowed dryly, "I am blessed by the great Goddess above to have met you!"

Jiub's eyes lowered for a moment, his face a look of clear comfort at his friend's words. Jiub renewed his grip upon Seija's arm. "I am honoured to be called your friend," he mumbled hoarsely, "Ha, I really thought we would be freed together, but it seems our fates have seen this day otherwise," Jiub chuckled emptily as Seija nodded at him with a slight smile, "I will miss you very much, Seija-Dreamer, you are like a brother." Jiub shook Seija's shoulder.

Brakhus had had quite enough sap from his two charges and was beginning to stride down the planks towards them. "That is enough!" he shouted. "Move yourself now, old man!" He roared when the mer did not submit: "Guards! Come and get this, filth!"

Seija released his hold of Jiub as, at Brakhus' orders; his men came barreling down the planking to take hold of him at the points of their crossbows. "You better do as they say!" Jiub shouted too late, as an armed guard trotted up and brutally shoved the steeled point of his loaded crossbow deep into Seija's lower ribs. The other guard quickly shot over after and took the opportunity to uppercut Seija's unprotected face while he was doubled over. Brakhus then joined the sudden, hungry fray, and ruthlessly grabbed hold of Seija's long, thick hair with his naked left hand and thrust the mer's head upwards in one motion.

Brakhus stared malevolently pleased into to Seija's face, so close that Seija was spattered with spittle as he hissed: "Your friend is a wise coward, you scum pot!" Brakhus then lifted his only gauntleted hand, which shook with magicka and his palm seemed to brighten with a bright, misted blue-white light. "But, you should have listened to _me_, Dunmer!" he whispered.

Seija, his nose streaming blood profusely, stared at Brakhus' glowing hand without fear, which hovered near to his face. The hand emanated an ever-increasing coolness across Seija's naked cheek and jaw, while the two armed escorts pinned him hard against the wall beside Jiub. Brakhus then slowly let his open, now blindingly bright hand fall unhurriedly against the curve of Seija's neck.

At first only an uncomfortable coolness spread across the area Brakhus hovered over, but it swiftly grew into an agonizing, burning cold that felt as if it was blistering, or breaking his flesh apart when Brakhus finally pressed his hand against the curve of Seija's neck. Seija, however, was no babe-in-arms to the pain of magicka and he gritted his teeth hard together and growled deeply through the unnatural pain, staring into Brakhus' small dark brown eyes, matching the Imperial's prejudice and lust for the power to deal out pain with his own sheer iron-will.

Brakhus smiled as he continued his brutal onslaught, quite obviously overjoyed that the situation had allowed him to take physical action. "I heard on this bumboat that you were a strong old man and now I can see it," he murmured enjoyably, "But I won't be testing you any further. My orders and regulations unfortunately being as they are, you know." Brakhus laughed and with a final shove, he released his deadly hold on Seija's neck and shoulder. Brakhus smiled like a spoilt child who had gotten away with some misdeed and shook the cold layer of white frost from his gauntleted hand.

Seija groaned quietly, shaking slightly from the sheer, barbaric sensations thrust upon him. He drooped, for a moment, against the wall behind him. He looked over his shoulder to Jiub, only to find his dear friend trying to hide a proud smile from the Imperials. Seija smiled back warmly, though there was still icy splinters of pain like tiny shards of glass lancing through and around the area Brakhus had pitilessly frozen. The moment was lost again, however, when the two armed escorts firmly took hold of Seija's arms and began to gruffly lead him down the prisoner hold's rough planking.

Jiub quickly took advantage of the guard's retreat and cupped his hands around his mouth, saying: "Find a woman priest, Seija-Dreamer, and have her decipher your dreams after a tiring night away from the shrines and the chanting priests!" Jiub made himself chuckle, "She won't turn in a man for soul-sickness if he's worth her while in wiles, if you follow me!" Jiub laughed loudly and watched as Seija's head turned slightly round.

Seija smiled lightly, though it was a rather grisly looking smile since crimson blood from his nose had dripped into his mouth and coloured his usually white teeth. "My dreams are no mystery," Seija shouted, "I am Azura's servant and she is my Goddess, I have been chosen for some task!"

Brakhus suddenly closed the gap between Seija and himself and he stoutly slapped Seija's head with the metal-hardened back of his gauntleted hand. "Shut your mouth, prisoner scum!" he barked.

However, Seija continued on stalwartly, "But I like this idea, dear Jiub, if only for the prize after such a ruse!" Seija smiled again back at Jiub and was hit on the head once more, only with a fist that bonked against his hard skull. "Farewell, Jiub!" Seija shouted as he allowed himself to be thrown, by Brakhus, towards the hard ladder of the hatch-hold entryway after the two bodyguards quickly ascended.

Jiub smiled and laughed at his brave, strong companion. "Goodbye, my brother! I think I will see you again!"

Seija lithely stepped up the ladder, even though he was bleeding as well as injured, and emerged into the homey upper decks called the galley and guard quarters of the ship. He was allowed to stand untouched within this area, however, Brakhus' two armed men, who had laid their crossbows to rest upon their backs, still hovered close-by and watched him intently with the sharp tips of their gleaming, oiled shortwords pointed at the unprotected flesh of his belly and throat.

Seija ignored the two bodyguards and waited for Brakhus, calmly. The mer took a moment, though, to sniffle a little and wipe at the warm, oozing blood which still trickled from his battered, tender nose. As Seija wiped the sticky blood from off his fingertips and onto the fabric of his already begrimed brown pants, Brakhus arose from the prison hold.

The short, heavy Imperial stood for a moment beside Seija and adjusted his studded leather cuirass back into place. "One of you, I don't care who," he said with a gesture towards the hatch door, "Lock that door back up." With that Brakhus again turned his abominable attentions back on his charge. Brakhus reached up and firmly grasped the fabric of Seija's shirt between his shoulder blades and gave him a shove.

"Get yourself up on deck," the Imperial grumbled as he led the big mer towards the steps leading to the outside of the ship, "And this time, let's keep this as civil as possible, shall we?"

Seija ignored Brakhus' snide comment until the vile Imperial released him and bid him to head up to the deck. As Seija gripped the sides of the old wooden ladder with one barefoot casually resting on the first step, he turned his upper body slowly, so that he could gaze down upon Brakhus, who stood arrogantly erect at his left side.

"Do not change, Brakhus," Seija whispered coolly, "do not change. And when the Legion itself must discharge you for what I already know you are, I will be the one to _find_ you in the gutters of Morrowind." Seija smiled his bloody grin ever so faintly and continued, "Under such circumstances, I will not be compromised as I was today and I will not hold back my temper from being loosed upon your sorry soul." Seija then turned, bright red blood still dripping off of his face, and opened the heavy hatch door leading to the open deck of the Imperial Prison Ship and the new horizons outside. He did not hear what Brakhus said in reply.


End file.
